About Corn Mazes and Children

After successfully loading five pumpkins into the back of the car, Addie, my 7 year-old daughter, announces it's time for the corn maze. Cristina, my younger daughter Bridgette, and my father-in-law enter first. We wander, weave, backtrack, and turn around in what is increasingly becoming a difficult endeavor. It's getting so bad that I'm starting to wonder if any of the black corn on the dead cornstalks is still good for eating in a survival situation. "Dad!" Addie says, grabbing my arm. "Let's turn here." I look in the direction she is pointing. "That's a dead end, Addie," I say. I can see it from here." She shakes her head. "It might not be." At this point, the rest of our group is out of sight, so I tell Addie to move along. She's not happy about that, and her face let's me know I've let her down.

After several more turns, certain that we must be close to the exit, we encounter another dead end. This is getting ridiculous. We turn around and an approaching family notices we are coming their way. They laugh and turn around as well, leading us back the way we all came. Two groups in front of us continue straight, followed by Cristina, Bridgette, and my father-in-law. 

I'm close behind when Addie shouts, "Dad, let's try this way!" I turn to face my stubborn first born and restate that, as everyone else just acknowledged as they walked past, her way is a dead end. "Come on, Dad" she insists, "Let's try." I tell the rest of the family to stop, and I follow Addie off the beaten path. As she approaches the rows of corn marking the end of the path she's chosen, I stop short, waiting for her to realize her error. Only, she doesn't stop. She turns left and disappears.

What on earth? I run up to the end of the path and sure enough a very narrow trail veers to the left. It's hidden perfectly. "See, Dad," Addie says as I catch up to her. One more right turn and we have exited the corn maze, Addie leading the way. We wait a few seconds for the rest of the family to join us just outside the maze. Addie greets everyone with a big grin, and we start walking back down the hill to our car. 

Addie reaches up and takes my hand, a gesture that I cherish each time it occurs. I shake my head. I just can't stop doing it. Sure, I've improved, but once again I'm reminded that children need space and time. They need the opportunity to take wrong turns, march into dead ends and then find their way back. They need the freedom to explore, to make their own decisions, and to succeed and fail without an adult directing their every step. 

"Children do not need to be made to learn to be better, told what to do or shown how. If they are given access to enough of the world, they will see clearly enough what things are truly important to themselves and to others, and they will make for themselves a better path into that world then anyone else could make for them." - John Holt

I view my role as a parent so much differently than I did even one year ago. I find that when I trust my children to make their own choices, even when I'm not certain the outcome will be as they expect, the results are rarely what I expect.  And we all end up learning in the process. 

Marching down the hill, the bright sun shining over the mountains of Southwest Virginia, I look down at Addie. "You know, I really thought you chose the wrong path," I say. She looks up with a smile. "It did look like a dead end, Dad. But it wasn't."